


The Art of Losing

by exandriantrashpanda (topothesia)



Category: Critical Role (Web Series) RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-30
Updated: 2018-08-30
Packaged: 2019-07-04 14:02:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15842784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/topothesia/pseuds/exandriantrashpanda
Summary: Some nights the dice are against you both, but at least you've always got your best friend to take care of you.





	The Art of Losing

**Author's Note:**

> 1) written for a prompt on the Critical Kink meme; thanks, prompter! 2) The session that Sam and Liam just left is entirely fictional and if somehow someday in the future that scenario actually does happen, I want to swear that I didn't make it happen; 3) the title is from "One Art" by Elizabeth Bishop; 4) thanks to the person who read this first and told me it wasn't terrible, <3 you forever

Liam grabs Sam by the arm to stop him as he’s attempting to make a hasty exit from the studio after what can only be described as a session that will live in infamy. 

“Why the fuck did you do that?” Liam asks him. “Nott could have gotten away. Twitter’s going to eat us for breakfast.”

“First of all, fuck the Internet. Second of all, you know exactly why,” Sam snaps, glaring at Liam. “And it was in character, so don’t give me shit about that.”

“We can save questions about our characters for when we’re on the couch with Brian,” Liam says sharply. “Right now I just want to know why you, Sam, made the particularly stupid and self-sacrificing choice that might lead to Matt having to run two resurrection rituals in a row next week. Assuming we even have the resources for that.”

“Because it was you!” Sam says, his voice rising, putting his hands on Liam’s forearms. “Why the fuck would I not try to save _you_?”

“Because I’m not Caleb!” Liam shouts, shaking Sam’s hands off angrily. 

"Either way, I couldn't save him. I couldn't save Vax either. And someday I won't be able to save you, too," Sam says, his voice cracking.

"I'm not in danger, fictional or otherwise,” Liam says more quietly, but fresh tears are already forming in his eyes to join the ones he’s already cried on stream. 

"But you could be. Someday something will kill you. Someday something will take you away from me, " Sam insists, his own tears returning. “Someday you’ll be gone, and then what will I do?” 

"Today is not that day, though. I'm still here. I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere,” Liam says. He takes a step forward and grabs Sam, yanking him into a rough embrace, practically shoving him up against the wall, and Sam clutches at Liam as if Liam is the only fixed point in the maelstrom of emotion that’s just overwhelmed them both. 

The two of them stand entwined for a long moment, more or less holding each other up, half crying and half yelling at each other about how neither of them are allowed to die, ever.

“Fuck this, I’m taking you home with me,” Liam growls in Sam’s ear. 

“But,” Sam says, managing to imply a thousand logistical details with a single word.

“We’ll figure it out on the way,” Liam says, breaking their embrace to drag Sam towards the door and to the car.

***  
Once the bedroom door closes behind them, Sam sighs and presses his palms to his eyes. 

“Look, I’m sorry for what happened. I just…” he says. 

“I know, I know,” Liam says. “Caleb’s your boy, and you take care of him. I don’t care about that right now. All I care about is you, Sam.” 

Sam lifts his hands away from his face, giving up on his attempt to stop crying for the moment.

Liam puts his hands on Sam’s face instead and swipes at the tears. “Usually you’re the one doing this for me. Let me take care of you for once,” he says.

“Are you going to tell me that I’m pretty when I cry?” Sam says with a wet laugh. 

“No, I’m just going to kiss you and then we’re going to take off our clothes,” Liam answers.

“That could also work,” Sam manages to say before Liam interrupts him with a kiss.

Liam leads Sam to bed and begins kissing and touching him deliberately and slowly, not acting like Sam is going to break if he goes any faster, but simply as if they have all the time in the world. He scatters kisses all over Sam’s face before pressing his lips to Sam’s again. They kiss for what seems like hours, wrapping their limbs around each other like intertwining vines, pulling each other closer and closer. Liam traces patterns on Sam’s skin with his fingers and mouth, exploring and rediscovering, staking a claim. Sam relaxes under the incessant series of sensations, the complex combination of emotions from before slowly transmuting to simple desire.

Liam seems to sense when the balance has tipped, and his hands and mouth become more focused, more quick: firmer caresses, presses of teeth instead of gentle brushes of lips. Their pace quickens, their bodies moving together urgently, seeking more friction, more connection, more of each other, just more. 

“Should we fuck? I mean, do you want to?” Liam asks, stilling the frantic grind of his body against Sam’s for a moment. “We don’t have to...”

“Yeah,” Sam says softly. “I want that. I want you.”

“It’s been a while since I was on top, but I’m pretty sure I remember how this works,” Liam says teasingly as he briefly rolls away to rummage in the nightstand before moving down the bed.

“I’m certain you haven’t forgotten how,” Sam says, before letting out the rest of his breath in a gasp as Liam begins sliding slicked fingers inside him. 

“It’s coming back to me,” Liam says, moving his fingers slowly.

“I thought coming happened later in this process,” Sam says. 

“Pretty sure it will if we do it right,” Liam says before devoting himself to the process of working Sam open. 

Finally they’re pressed together fully, completely connected, absolutely nothing between them, Liam’s reassuring weight bearing Sam down onto the bed, grounding him in the present. There’s very little room for thought in either of their minds as they move; there’s just the two of them together, the way it always has been and it always will be, rest of the world be damned.

Sam realizes that he’s crying again when Liam touches his face. “Do you want to stop?” Liam asks, slowing. 

“No,” Sam says. “Give me more,” he asks instead, suddenly wanting to do nothing but chase away any emotion that isn’t pleasure. 

“As you wish,” Liam says, his lips twitching into a smile as he begins to thrust harder and faster and Sam pushes back against him eagerly.

Sam comes first, spattering their chests and swearing out a torrent of syllables that include Liam’s name; Liam follows shortly after, spilling over inside Sam with a muffled shout, and they collapse into a tangle.

“All right?” Liam asks.

“Better than all right,” Sam says, reaching to stroke Liam’s damp hair away from his face. “How do you do this to me every single time?” 

“This is what comes from years of familiarity,” Liam says, laughing softly before adding, “I do love you, you know.”

“Even if I keep trying to save you?” Sam asks.

“In spite and because of it,” Liam says. “Let me count the ways.”


End file.
